


Moving On

by getoffmyhead



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Afterlife, M/M, Magic Boat, Soulmates, Spiritfarer AU, Spiritfarer Geno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:28:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29032443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/getoffmyhead/pseuds/getoffmyhead
Summary: After an accident on his fishing trawler, Sid finds himself rescued by a mysterious, Russian stranger on a funny, whimsical boat.
Relationships: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin
Comments: 21
Kudos: 88





	Moving On

**Author's Note:**

> Spiritfarer is a beautiful, hand-drawn videogame about death and hope and love. While I highly recommend it, it is not necessary to read and understand this story.

The smell of coffee roused Sid from sleep before his alarm could start to clatter. He hit it anyway—habit, routine—and shook his head wryly at himself as he crawled out of bed. The floor rocked like a baby's bassinet. It was a good sign when the waves started the day gently lapping at the hull. Sid whistled his way out to the galley.

"Good morning!" Jack called when Sid came into view. He was hunched over the coffee percolator, pouring four tin cups full of hot, pitch-black liquid.

"Strong this morning, eh?" Sid asked with a nod of thanks when Jack handed him a cup.

"Brass made it to wake Phil up."

Sid took a sip and recoiled. "Whoo, more like wake the dead."

"Like I said," Jack retorted with a grin and a shrug on his way to the stairs. "Phil."

Sid chuckled and dared another taste of the concentrated coffee, so strong it was barely liquid, before he followed Jack up to the deck. 

The gulls had beat the sun to rising and greeted Sid with their high-pitched honking—complaining, no doubt, about their empty stomachs. The greedy little vultures would pick through the nets while Sid's crew worked to preserve the day's catch, weeding out the smaller fish and swallowing them whole.

"Fuckin' rats with wings," Phil groused about the noise. He was coming up the deck, having just finished preparing the nets for the day's trawl. When he saw Jack holding coffee, his blue eyes brightened. "Thanks, bud."

"Thank Brass, not me. I'm just the delivery guy."

From the wheelhouse behind them, Brass yelled out a cheery, "You're welcome," in French. Phil huffed and sipped. He didn't react to the drink as Sid had, apparently unfazed by the strength. With his coffee in hand, he went about his duties shuffling along the deck checking lines. Jack went with him. As soon as they were in position, they would drop the nets for the day's catch.

Sid joined Brass in the wheelhouse, squinting out at the glassy water stretched out before them. "How are we looking?" Sid asked.

"Beautiful day for fish, captain," Brass said, this time in English. He reserved his native French words for Phil, the only one among them who didn't understand a word. "Would you like the wheel?"

"Nah, you got it, bud. Get us somewhere good, and let's drop 'em."

"Aye, captain." Brass winked at Sid's snort. They weren't a military ship—just a ragtag group of fishermen on a shitty old trawler trying to make enough money to last the winter. The idea of rank was above their paygrade.

"Carry on," Sid said, tongue in cheek as he played along. He heard Brass chuckling behind him as he returned to the deck.

The morning went as smoothly as any day on the open sea ever could. The four of them stayed busy filling their nets, dumping and sorting fish, storing them in the ice below decks. They fell into a rhythm as they worked, chatting and joking and laughing as they went. Brass tried to surreptitiously stick fish guts to Phil's shoulder so the gulls would come down and bother him, which was Jack's favorite windup. He cackled like an old woman when Phill noticed the tiny, bloody pile on his coat and flicked it off.

"Laugh it up, giggs," Phil groused. "Frenchie will be eating one of those sky rodents if it comes down here."

Phil's protests only served to further amuse Jack.

Sid laughed along as Brass told a joke about Phil's mother in French until his ears picked up a concerning sound. He cocked his head—it was a hissing sound. Straining. Almost as though—

"Net's caught," Sid said, and the crewmembers snapped into action. Sid raced over to the lever to release pressure on the net, letting it out instead of reeling it in, but the lever refused to budge. "It's jammed, Brass," Sid called, heart starting to race. "Fix it if you can, but we might have to cut."

"Yep," Brass said, slotting into Sid's spot to work at the jam while Sid jogged down to the stern to see if he could spot the trouble. As he made it, he heard the engines cut and breathed a sigh of relief. The net would pull them back, but the pressure would let go. They wouldn't lose the line. He leaned out over the side, peering as far as he could into the dark water.

The last thing Sid heard before his body hit the water was a snap—not the little sound made by a twine rope when it separated, but the twangy, metallic pop of individual cables all letting go at once. He knew what it was even as it hit him—a trawl line. It might have been the last well-defined thought Sid had before his consciousness filled up with cold and pain and fear. He heard his crew yelling, indistinct words fading in and out as he struggled to keep the surface. But their voices faded when his fight proved fruitless and his ears filled with water. They were too far away for him to hear anymore as he sank beneath the waves.

***

Sid woke as his body broke the surface of the water, being hauled up by a strong arm linked around his chest. The arm was wiry, thin but layered with lean muscle—Brass, then. Phil and Jack had thicker limbs. The arm had to belong to Brass. He sagged with relief against the steady strength of his crewmate.

With Brass doing the work, Sid could put his attention on his body. Where was he injured? Nobody got out of a trawl line hit to the chest without some damage. He dragged his hands up through the warm seawater to feel the damage—wait, warm? That wasn't right. He must be hallucinating, hypothermic, so cold he could no longer experience accurate temperatures.

"Brass, I'm not cold," he said, expecting a sarcastic French reply. No reply came. Brass was concentrating on getting them out of the water. Sid could help if he knew his body wasn't broken. He returned to his exploration of the wound.

Sid's fingers found nothing but the wet cloth of his shirt and smooth skin underneath. The cotton wasn't even torn from the impact. Nothing felt sore, no broken ribs.

A high giggle escaped Sid as giddiness flooded over him like the water lapping at his torso. "I'm okay," he said aloud. He had been so sure he was going to die. He had _known_. And Brass had come in and dragged him out. Sid was going to kiss him on the mouth when they got on solid footing.

They stopped moving. The arm around Sid's chest tightened and pulled at him. A jolt of panic cut away Sid's relief when the man at his ear spoke, a long string of syllables in a language other than English or French. Like a fish on a line, Sid thrashed to get free. He outmuscled the hold on him and twisted around to set his gaze on a complete stranger.

"Who the fuck are you?" he cried. But he could spare no more than a glance at the man, enough to gather that he was long and lean and dark-haired, before his eyes were pulled elsewhere. The man was clinging to the side of a boat—not a trawler or a crab fisher, but something unlike Sid had ever seen.

Bow to stern, it must have been fifty feet. The wheelhouse—if that's what the cozy little wooden cabin could be called—sat high above the deck atop of a half-flight of stairs. The deck itself was low, barely a foot out of the water. Sid could pull himself up the side of the vessel instead of using the ladder upon which the man clung, staring at him. On the deck, there were various mismatched little buildings stacked on top of each other. Some appeared to be dwellings. Others were clearly gardens. At the bow, there was an animal pen with chickens and sheep.

"What the fuck?" Sid barely managed to say anything through his lightheadedness. Nothing made sense. He couldn't have been underwater for more than a couple of minutes to have come up unharmed. In that time, his trawler had disappeared along with the cold water and the gray sky. It was as though, in the moment of his drowning, Sid had been transported to a clear, summer day in a tropical climate. 

The stranger said something firm and authoritative to get his attention. He was shirtless, clinging to the ladder impatiently with his eyebrows arched. Sid's crisis was apparently annoying him.

"I don't know what you're saying," Sid said. He felt small in the vast expanse of ocean, the only rescue being the strange vessel before him and the impatient man who had hauled him out of the water.

The man spoke again. His words were softer this time—soft like his eyes, which were the brown of rich soil, safe and assuring. He reached a hand out of the water, offering it to Sid with a little smile. Sid let his eyes wander again over the boat then out over the water. He saw no other vessels, no land. An uneasy feeling made a home in Sid's stomach, curled like a dog before a hearth. But when he looked back at the man, the feeling slept. Sid paddled close and put his hand into the man's, allowing him to pull Sid to the ladder.

Sid's journey up the ladder ended on the quarter-deck, the raised platform above the main deck, where he could look out at the strange vessel. Trying to take everything in at once quickly overwhelmed him, so he turned his attention to the nearest structure—a small, two-story house where the steering wheel should be.

As Sid surveyed the tall, narrow house, the man shook himself off, retrieved his shirt from the deck, and made his way to the door. Sid watched him enter the little house and took the open door as an invitation to follow.

Inside the small house sat a compact control center beneath a tiny loft where Sid could just make out a bed. There was a wheel in the center of the controls, along with several knobs and switches and mysterious dials. Sid tried to make sense of the layout while observing the man moving from switches to knobs without touching the wheel. When he had done a number of things, the deck lurched beneath Sid's feet—they were underway. But Sid never felt the rumble of an engine underneath his feet. The boat seemed to move by magic.

Perhaps the boat was also _steered_ by magic because the man seemed unconcerned with taking the wheel. Instead, he came to stand before Sid.

"Zhenya," the man said, one of the many sounds he had made at Sid since arriving on deck. Sid barely registered his voice as communication after listening to him speak in nonsense syllables. But the man poked Sid in the chest and said again, forcefully. "Zhenya." Then he pointed at himself.

"Oh. Oh! Your name. Zhenya. I'm Sid." Sid pointed at himself and repeated. "Sid."

Zhenya nodded, satisfied, and pushed past Sid to go out to the deck. Sid remained in place with his eyes fixed inexorably on the wheel. The boat kept making small adjustments on its own. In his trawler, they could set her to crawl and lock the wheel in place as a sort of autopilot, but she wouldn't course correct. They had to be damn sure they were out of the way of everything but open ocean when they did it. This boat, this strange vessel, seemed nearly to have a mind of its own. Sid drifted forward and raised a hand toward the wheel.

"Sid." Zhenya's voice broke through Sid's reverie and turned him. He found Zhenya leaning with a hand on either side of the doorframe, grinning at him. Zhenya nodded out toward the boat and said a word, an obvious request to join him.

"You sure this thing is okay on its own?" Sid asked, waving a hand at the wheel.

Zhenya followed Sid's gesture and made a dismissing motion as he spoke. Then he held out his hand like he had in the water and raised his eyebrows in questioning. _Come with me _, he clearly said.__

__"Okay. I'm trusting you not to get us wrecked. Last thing I need is two accidents in one day."_ _

__When Sid touched Zhenya's hand, he expected him to pull away, satisfied that Sid would follow him. Instead, Zhenya tugged him close and linked their hands together to drag him away, out of the wheelhouse and down the half flight of stairs to the flat main deck. Sid was glad for the guidance of Zhenya's hand when they reached the deck or he might have walked right off the rail-less edge craning to look up at the structures on board._ _

__"What is all of this?" Sid asked, peering up at one house in particular. It looked a like a tiny, Russian apartment plucked from a row of identical dwellings and placed on top of Zhenya's healthy-looking vegetable garden._ _

__Zhenya stopped and followed Sid's eyes to the little apartment. He said something soft and solemn. Sid wished he could understand a word._ _

__"I'm sorry," Sid said because whatever Zhenya said clearly made him feel a little sad._ _

__Zhenya breathed in deep and shrugged, then nodded down the deck. Sid again followed the pull of Zhenya's hand all the way down to the sheep and chickens. They were in a little paddock lined with bedding. A rake leaned against the wall. The animals were well cared for, fat and happy. The hens were clucking and digging in the bedding. One was sitting on a sheep._ _

__Zhenya looked delighted by his animals—proud, even. He seemed to want to show them off. Sid leaned cautiously on the railing with him and craned a hand out toward the nearest sheep. It raised up from munching hay and flicked its ears back and forth uncertainly._ _

__A nudge against Sid's shoulder got his attention. When he looked, Zhenya held out a small piece of carrot. Sid took the treat and presented it to the animal in place of his bare hand. With the additional incentive, the sheep closed the two-step gap between them and took the carrot between soft lips. When Sid looked, Zhenya was smiling at him._ _

__***_ _

__It was all too easy to fall into the rhythms of life on the strange boat. Zhenya got Sid set up in a tiny, wooden cabin by the vegetable garden. It had a bed, a dresser with clothes just Sid's size, and a bathroom inside. It even had a small living room with a couch and a bookshelf full of interesting books. For the first few days, giddy to have survived and unwilling to rock the metaphorical boat, Sid simply went along for the ride. He figured wherever they ended up would be fine. He could contact home from there._ _

__But a week into the journey without any stops, Sid began to worry about where the magic boat was taking them. Based on Zhenya's language, he wondered if it might be Russia. He asked, pointing toward the bow and saying, "Russia?"_ _

__Zhenya shook his head emphatically, mouth pulling with good humor. Then he said a bunch of words Sid didn't understand, clapped him on the shoulder, and walked away._ _

__Sid tried again later with different countries. His trawler had set off from Cole Harbour in Canada, but judging by the speed of Zhenya's strange boat, they would have arrived already if they were heading back there. Still, he asked. Again, Zhenya said no. Sid asked about the United States and Greenland and every country he could name in Europe. But none of those were right, either. For the water to be so warm, he knew it must be nearer the equator._ _

__"Cuba?" he asked while following Zhenya through his daily chores, lending a hand where he could._ _

__Zhenya snorted. He was raking between the rows of vegetable plants in the garden. They were big and beautiful and never seemed to lose their fruit, no matter how many Zhenya harvested for their breakfasts and dinners. Sid looked at them until he felt uneasy and forced his eyes away._ _

__"I don't know," Sid said, mind searching for another tropical locale while it struggled not to think about the plants. "Jamaica?"_ _

__Zhenya stood up and leaned on his rake. For the first time, he appeared exasperated with the questions about their destination. He didn't seem annoyed by the line of questioning itself, but rather—disappointed. It seemed as though he thought Sid should already know. Zhenya searched Sid's face with his lips pressed together and then dropped the rake against the wall. As had become Zhenya's habit when he wanted Sid to follow, he held out his hand. Sid clasped it and followed Zhenya up to the wheelhouse._ _

__Zhenya bent beneath the wheel, steadily adjusting and turning itself, and pulled out a paper map. He unfolded it on the table by the door and smoothed it carefully. Sid scanned over it, perplexed. It had markers for things he had never witnessed in all his years at sea._ _

__"Is that a dragon?" he asked, pointing. Zhenya took the opportunity to grasp his hand and push it down until Sid's extended index finger pointed at something in the bottom center of the map. It was a symbol that looked like the Greek letter omega. "That's where we're going?"_ _

__Zhenya pointed at the omega symbol and nodded._ _

__"Zhenya, I can't go to—whatever that thing is. I need to go home. It's been days. My crew thinks I drowned. My parents, my little sister—they're all going to think I died."_ _

__Zhenya looked sincere and soulful while listening to Sid talk, though he couldn't understand a word. When Sid finished speaking, Zhenya pulled him into a hug and said something that sounded comforting, at least in tone._ _

__"I really need you to understand me," Sid said, muffled by Zhenya's shoulder. He was a good hugger. It was hard to let go. When Sid pulled away, he felt better, less on the verge of frustrated tears. "Okay, bud. First things first. We have to find a way to talk."_ _

__***_ _

__It took another week of traveling with no land in sight for Sid to learn that Zhenya did not have any particular interest in learning Sid's language. He seemed happy enough to wave hands at each other, communicating mostly in grunts and smiles._ _

__Well, that was fair. Zhenya wasn't the one who needed to get something across, so Sid would have to be the one to compromise. He would learn Russian, hopefully before they got too far away from his home. He would at least acquire enough skill to ask for a pit stop to use a telephone._ _

__Sid found Zhenya fishing at the bow of the boat with his long legs dangled over the side. He was wearing shorts, and his hairy calves looked endless, like he could touch his toes to the water from all the way up by the wheelhouse. Sid lowered to sit with him, legs between the railings—imitating Zhenya._ _

__"What do you call this?" Sid asked, pointing at the rod in Zhenya's hands. "Come on, Russian word. What's this?"_ _

__Zhenya said something. When Sid repeated it, Zhenya beamed._ _

__On the first day, Sid learned enough to clumsily talk about fishing and caring for the chickens. Zhenya seemed so thrilled by his efforts it was impossible to tell whether Sid was pronouncing anything properly. He thought Zhenya just appreciated his attempts._ _

__From then on, Zhenya seemed all too eager to yap away in his language, repeating words for Sid to parrot to him from sunup to sundown until they could have simple conversations with each other. Sid found it amazing how few words one needed for everyday conversation, which he had never truly acknowledged in English._ _

__Zhenya seemed to interpret Sid's eagerness to learn his language as a general interest in learning everything. While they chatted, Zhenya showed him how to work the garden. It was simple enough. Pour water from the bucket, which Sid never saw empty, onto the soil. Work in some fertilizer. Pick the vegetables and fruits as they ripen. They tended the animals together, too. Again, Sid tried not to think too hard about the single bale of hay in the corner or the never-ending sack of grain for the chickens. Nothing ever seemed to deplete on the boat._ _

__For the most part, they lived a peaceful existence, speaking more and more each day. But Sid noticed as the days passed that Zhenya went to the wheelhouse more often. Sid sometimes peeked in on him and found him looking down at the map with a perplexed frown._ _

__If he caught Sid's eyes on him, Zhenya closed the map and quickly changed the subject. Sid couldn't pretend to understand, but it seemed almost as though Zhenya thought they were lost. How he could come to that conclusion, Sid had no idea. They had passed no landmarks, and he had never seen Zhenya use a compass. He tried not to grow too frustrated with his building questions, coaching himself to be patient and wait until the day when he learned enough Russian to ask._ _

__He thought, when the day came, that he would do anything for answers. He couldn't imagine accepting that Zhenya _could_ tell him but wouldn't. But when the day came, that was precisely how it happened. _ _

__"Good morning," Sid said the morning of that day, entering the kitchen where Zhenya was cooking pancakes. It wasn't a gally—that was too rough a term. This was a proper kitchen, florally decorated and fully equipped. It was as though it had been plucked from a suburban home and placed on the boat's deck._ _

__"Morning," Zhenya said. He still looked a little bit thrilled every time Sid spoke his language. "Want some pancakes?"_ _

__"Yes, please."_ _

__Zhenya said something fast with a few words he had not yet taught Sid mixed in and flipped the pancake in his skillet with a flick of his wrist. Sid was proud of himself when he caught the drift—Zhenya was bragging about his pancake skills. He said he was the best cook on the boat. Sid's laughter tapered as he realized what it meant. Weeks of speaking and listening to Russian was starting to pay off. He could gather meanings outside of words he had been taught. He was ready to ask for more._ _

__"Zhenya, tell me," Sid said, forming the words against his tongue's will. Zhenya turned from the stove with a bemused smile. Sid didn't know the word for the thing he needed to ask about. He tried to make the omega symbol in the air, but Zhenya didn't get it. Undeterred, Sid spilled pepper on a white plate and drew the symbol with his finger._ _

__Zhenya's face hardened. "No, don't—" He said more things, but Sid didn't know the words. This time, he couldn't catch the drift._ _

__"Tell. Please."_ _

__"Is _this_ why you want to know Russian?" Zhenya asked, his voice hard, but also slow and well-pronounced. He wanted Sid to understand, to feel the knife of betrayal in his words as though Sid couldn't see it in his eyes. Shame poured over Sid like boiling water, heating his face and ears and the back of his neck. Still, he couldn't lie. He nodded._ _

__Zhenya flipped the pancake off the skillet and onto the pepper coated plate in Sid's hands. He left Sid holding the plate with the ruined breakfast and stalked out of the kitchen._ _

__Sid felt terrible, standing there in the kitchen holding a peppered pancake in his numb hands. The way Zhenya had lit up when he started saying Russian words, he must have thought Sid simply wanted to talk to him. Alone on this boat for who knows how long, having a friend to speak to must have been a sudden relief._ _

__Sid left the kitchen and tossed the pancake into the water as he followed Zhenya's retreating back to the wheelhouse. When he entered, he found Zhenya leaning on the table, eyes fixed on the map in frustration. Sid ventured closer and dared to lay a hand on Zhenya's tense shoulder._ _

__"Bad?" Sid asked very softly, pointing at the omega symbol._ _

__"No," Zhenya replied quickly enough that it sounded true._ _

__"Good?" Sid asked instead._ _

__Zhenya hesitated. His eyes drew over to Sid's face. For the first time, it appeared as though he was searching for something from Sid, an answer Sid could give him. "Good," he confirmed with a tinge of sadness in his voice._ _

__"My friend," Sid said painstakingly. Zhenya's eyes remained dejected, so Sid tried again. "I learn Russian for my friend."_ _

__Zhenya lifted his head in surprise. When Sid squeezed his shoulder, Zhenya reached up and lay his hand over Sid's. The touch banished the worry from Zhenya's eyes, replacing it with the usual warmth, dark pools of affection for Sid._ _

__"I'm sorry," Sid said in painful Russian. "You want I stop ask?"_ _

__Zhenya nodded, looking sheepish and regretful, but then he smiled. "Yes, please." He said a few words that Sid didn't catch, then, "Happy."_ _

__"Happy," Sid repeated. And he was. He was happy on the boat. The shrinking voice of his conscience shouted that his friends and family would worry, but it had been six weeks since the accident. They would be getting used to him being gone now. His call would disrupt them, scare them even. They might be better off if he waited a little bit longer._ _

__That night, after they closed up the chickens and ate dinner, Sid and Zhenya sat side by side at the stern, watching the stars dance on the water. They did it a lot, sitting together in silence. Even now that they could exchange some words, this time was quiet._ _

__Instead of saying anything, Sid let his body drift over until his shoulder found Zhenya's. Zhenya jerked slightly in surprise, but he recovered. Within a few tense breaths, Zhenya's arm came around Sid's back, and his hand cupped around Sid's shoulder._ _

__***_ _

__Sid backed off asking questions about the omega symbol. It was obviously a sore subject for some reason, so Sid let the matter die. Zhenya had told him it was a good place—that was all Sid needed to know._ _

__Instead, as the weeks grew into months, Sid turned his curiosity toward things closer to him. Using his growing language abilities, he asked about the items on the boat. Where did Zhenya get the chickens and sheep?_ _

__"I find lots of things out here," Zhenya replied. "The chickens were floating in a box I took out of the water. The sheep were a gift."_ _

__"Gift? From a person?"_ _

__Zhenya chuckled. "Yes, from a person."_ _

__Well, at least it seemed that Zhenya _sometimes_ stopped the boat on land if he was getting gifts from people. They wouldn't be out to sea forever, as it sometimes felt like they would. There would come a day when Sid would be able to step on dry land, wherever that land might be, and find a phone._ _

__Sid's confidence that Zhenya would lead him somewhere safe grew into contentment. He could wait as long as it took._ _

__"Can I see inside the house?" Sid asked one day, pointing up to the dwellings built above the deck like strange, mismatched flats over a row of shops. Sid's was the only home that rested on the deck itself, easy to access._ _

__Zhenya squinted up at the houses. As usual, a somberness took him over when he looked at them. Perhaps that was why they were built so high, so he wouldn't have to think about them too often._ _

__"Why do you want to see them?" Zhenya asked._ _

__Sid shrugged. "I want to know. It's okay if not."_ _

__Zhenya dragged his eyes down until they landed on Sid's face. Solemnly, he nodded. "Yes, you can see them. Come."_ _

__They climbed a ladder up to the second floor of the strangely-structured boat. It brought them to the front of the little, gray apartment with the sooty front door. There were other houses, beautiful ones with bright colors and painted glass, but this one drew Sid's interest the most. Zhenya touched the door reverently and then turned the knob to let Sid inside._ _

__Sid stepped through the door into a cozy little apartment, so different from the outside. Where the exterior seemed drab and dreary, the room Sid entered was bright and lively, decorated in rich hues of maroon and blue. There were knickknacks on tables and a well-worn couch and—pictures. Sid set his eyes on a series of photos on the wall. The first was a family of four, two parents and two boys. The second was of one of the boys playing soccer. The third was the other boy with soulful brown eyes wearing a hockey sweater. The eyes were familiar._ _

__"That is your—" Sid cut off because he didn't know the word for relative or nephew or even family. Abstract concepts were difficult to learn in a bubble, away from application or examples._ _

__"Me," Zhenya said. When Sid whipped around in surprise, he found Zhenya looking very vulnerable. "That is me. I played hockey. The other is my brother."_ _

__Sid hadn't previously known the word for brother, but the context of the conversation filled him in. "Brother," he repeated, going to the pictures. He touched the one of the whole family. "You live here?" Sid had only ever seen Zhenya retire to the wheelhouse's loft, but perhaps this was his main home._ _

__Zhenya didn't answer right away. When Sid turned to look expectantly at him, he shrugged. "It's hard to explain."_ _

__"Can you try?"_ _

__"I lived here when I was small," Zhenya said carefully. "But not here. In Russia. On this boat, my parents lived here. It was a place that made them happy."_ _

__"Parents? Mother and father?" Sid asked. Zhenya nodded, confirming that Sid had heard him right. He was surprised to learn that Zhenya's parents had been on the boat with him, never mind that they had apparently constructed a replica of Zhenya's childhood home there._ _

__"Yes," Zhenya said. "I had them here with me for a long time."_ _

__"Where did they go?"_ _

__"They went to the Everdoor," Zhenya said, an unfamiliar word to Sid. Zhenya followed with a listless finger motion—the omega sign drawn in the air—and Sid got it._ _

__"That thing on map. The Everdoor?"_ _

__Zhenya nodded. He was clamming up, getting to the part of the subject he didn't wish to discuss, but Sid needed to know. This was more than just getting to a phone, calling his home. That was irrelevant in the face of this new information._ _

__"You take parents to Everdoor?" Sid demanded._ _

__Zhenya nodded, looking miserable. "They wanted to go. It was time."_ _

__Sid's racing mind ran into a wall of dread. “You take _me_ to Everdoor,” he accused. "You take me—I die? You kill me?"_ _

__Sid was stretching the use of the words he had learned for fishing. He hoped they applied, and by the stricken expression on Zhenya's face, they did. "Sid, no. I won't kill you. I _can’t_ kill you.”_ _

__"Why?"_ _

__It appeared from Zhenya's reluctant grimace that he regretted inviting the question. Sid felt sick with anticipation, but he needed to hear it. He could accept it if Zhenya only told him what he had suspected for a while was true._ _

__"Zhenya, why you can't kill me? Because Everdoor kill me?" Perhaps it was dangerous. Maybe there were people there that would do it for him. The nagging feeling of truth tugged at Sid even as he twisted away, seeking alternative answers for the ugly reality._ _

__"No, I told you before. The Everdoor is good. You have to trust me."_ _

__"Why?" Sid demanded, his favorite simple, stubborn retort. He could pronounce it perfectly because he used it so much._ _

__Unexpectedly, Zhenya closed the gap between them and kissed Sid. He said something with his mouth against Sid's—"I" and "you" with a word in between that Sid hadn't learned, but he could guess._ _

__"Say again," Sid demanded._ _

__"I love you," Zhenya repeated, lips brushing Sid's. When Sid tried his best to repeat the words, Zhenya kissed him with an anguished sound._ _

__When Zhenya pulled back, Sid feared he might be finished kissing. Sid wasn't sure he would ever want to stop, but thankfully Zhenya seemed to be on the same page. He held out his hand, same as when they couldn't understand each other, and Sid took it. Zhenya led him to the ladder so they could descend to the deck, then to Sid's cozy little cabin._ _

__Sid's heart raced while he followed Zhenya through his den to his bedroom. Though they had spent months together on the boat, it seemed sudden for Zhenya to be working the tie to his shorts and helping him out of his shirt. But it also seemed unexplainably inevitable. Nervous as he felt, Sid wasted no time reciprocating, divesting Zhenya of clothing as well until he was standing there naked and long and so beautiful._ _

__When he saw Sid had stalled just staring, Zhenya breezed past him into the bed and watched him, eyes wide, to see how he might react. It gave Sid all the prompting he needed to join Zhenya in bed, crawling over him to kiss him once more._ _

__Kissing seemed to bolster Zhenya's confidence in their actions. He smoothed his hands down Sid's back and cupped his ass before moving to the front of his body to explore there. Zhenya seemed intent on touching every part of Sid's naked body with infuriating patience before he finally took him in hand to pleasure him. Sid did the same, touching Zhenya gently at first before Zhenya reached to adjust his grip. When Sid tried again, Zhenya made a sound that left no doubt Sid was doing it just right._ _

__They moved together, mouths clumsily finding one another as they worked, breathing the same air until the pleasure crested into something utterly overwhelming. Sid forgot himself, making all sorts of noise as he peaked, forgot even to move his hand until Zhenya covered it with his own and pushed himself over. It was unlike any sexual experience of Sid's life, as though the pleasure in this magical boat was increased tenfold._ _

__When he clumsily managed to ask Zhenya about it, staring in awe at the ceiling while they lay together, Zhenya chuckled at him. "No, it's not the boat. It's you and me. Us. I know it now."_ _

__"Know what?"_ _

__"I didn't see it before. I didn't know why you came here."_ _

__Sid cast his mind back to the day Zhenya dragged him from the water. He had seemed flustered, frustrated, but who wouldn't be shocked to pull a drowning man from the ocean?_ _

__"Everybody who comes on my boat is special to me," Zhenya explained. "My parents, my brother, my friends. I carried them all. But I didn't know you. Why would you be on my boat?"_ _

__"I fall in water, silly. I don't come here because I want. You don't want me on boat?"_ _

__Zhenya huffed like Sid still wasn't getting something. "I want you most of all," he said with a grin in his voice, relaxed like a man who had solved the biggest problem in his life. "You belong here with me. My love. My—"_ _

__He said another word then, one Sid probably wouldn't be able to pick up from context. Only, he thought he knew it. He didn't dare say it out loud or try to explain in clumsy Russian, but somehow, some part of him knew. Zhenya had said, "soulmate."_ _

__Sid curled to face Zhenya and kissed him. "I can stay here?"_ _

__"Yes. Stay as long as you want."_ _

__"What about Everdoor?"_ _

__"The Everdoor will wait for you. We don't go until you're ready."_ _

__"How you know?"_ _

__"The Everdoor will know. We can sail for as long as it takes, but when you're ready, the door will appear."_ _

__"I don't want go," Sid said in frustratingly simple Russian. "I want stay with you."_ _

__"You will never leave me," Zhenya said. "Now that we've found one another, we will be together forever."_ _

__Sid didn't understand, but he wasn't sure he could. Instead of prodding more, he rested on his increasingly common reaction to new situations and trusted that Zhenya would guide him. Zhenya knew what was going on, so Sid didn't have to. Zhenya would keep him safe as long as he wanted._ _

__***_ _

__They sailed together on the boat for years. Time became meaningless other than the passage of hours between sunrise and sunset. They kept the sheep and chickens that never died. They tended the plants that never wilted. They fished in the ever-tropical waters and cooked in an oven that never ran out of power. They stayed on the boat, happy and content together, until Sid could scarcely remember ever living any other way._ _

__Only, he wasn't living. He knew that now—had perhaps always known it. Sid lounged on the roof of the wheelhouse in the sun, watching Zhenya swim nude down below him. It was a perfect moment in a perfect day. But then, _all_ the days were perfect._ _

__Sid shook off the tendrils of melancholy that touched his skin and stood. He dove into the water with Zhenya, chased him down, and kissed him. It was what he always did when he felt the pull—he went to Zhenya and kissed him._ _

__But he couldn't hold it off forever._ _

__They were sitting on the bow, watching the stars together, when a light appeared on the horizon. Sid lifted his head off of Zhenya's shoulder and squinted at it._ _

__"What is that?" he asked._ _

__Zhenya reached between them and clasped his hand. "I think you know."_ _

__Sid had been so worried about telling Zhenya when he felt the pull of satisfaction, of being complete. Zhenya was right. He had known all along it was the Everdoor calling him. And evidently, Zhenya had known, too._ _

__"It's okay," Zhenya told him, squeezing his hand. "Don't worry. Everything will be fine."_ _

__And Sid believed him. He watched the light on the horizon grow larger until it became a shape—a Greek symbol just touching the surface of the water. The reflection on the water created a perfect circle. As they approached, the boat slowed to a stop._ _

__"Are you ready?" Zhenya asked. He didn't seem distressed at all, which made Sid feel calm._ _

__"Yes," Sid said, and it was true. As much as he had enjoyed his time on the boat with Zhenya, he was ready to move on._ _

__Zhenya got down from their perch, and Sid followed suit. With a wry smile, Zhenya held out his hand. Sid grasped it with a grin of his own, a callback to so long ago when they couldn't even speak to each other._ _

__Zhenya led the way to the little rowboat and lowered them down into the water. He grasped the oar and started them to the door but decided abruptly that he didn't want to do the work and handed them to Sid. "You're into this sort of thing."_ _

__"You live on a boat," Sid shot back, but he took over the paddling while Zhenya just laughed. They would get there faster that way._ _

__Sid rowed them across the smooth water until the Everdoor loomed before them. He stopped just short and pulled the oar up._ _

__"Well. I guess this is it," Sid said._ _

__"Sure, I guess," Zhenya replied. His relaxed countenance didn't match with Sid's apprehension. Seeing Sid's mute nervousness, he sobered. "Take your time. Whenever you're ready."_ _

__"Don't you need to get off?"_ _

__"Why? I'm going with you."_ _

__Sid's eyes snapped from the Everdoor to Zhenya's face. It was the first he had heard of this, the idea that Zhenya might be going with him through the door._ _

__"I told you, you're my soulmate. Where you go, I go. You're going through the Everdoor, so I'm going with you."_ _

__"What's on the other side?"_ _

__"No idea," Zhenya said, mouth pulling. "Heaven? Another life? Maybe just another goddamn boat. But we'll find out together."_ _

__As Sid looked upon the great structure, a sense of immense calm came over him. He picked up his oar and resumed rowing, carrying them under the arch of the Everdoor and beyond, into the unknown future. Together._ _


End file.
